A Scandalous Affair Christmas Part 1
Note: Sorry folks, I have been suffering from writers block.
Christmas Time
Returning Home
Mary and Tom sat in the motor, bringing them back to Downton Abbey. Mary's home and Tom's former place of employment. Tom couldn't help but feel anxious. Sitting in the back of the motor, where before he would be driving the family. Now he was family.
Tom and Mary had spent the entire journey to Downton from Liverpool, brainstorming Tom's next novel. Tom had a cracking idea. A murder mystery in a country house. It seemed to be all the rage these days.
Button was ecstatic over the first novel and predicted big things for Tom. Tom wouldn't count his chickens though.
But he was excited about the idea. He and Mary would be a Downton for a month. They would be able to traipse all over the house and countryside. Tom taking notes on all he saw. Mary drawing him sketches.
They were bubbling over with excitement and ideas. Tom loved this part of the writing process especially. The fact finding and research. Reggie had already sent him details of real life cases he knew off.
But he was sure he would find inspiration at Downton. He hoped that his in-laws did not mind him and Mary poking in everywhere. Mary had assured him it would be fine. But Tom suspected Mary would be allowed to get away with behaviour that would be frowned upon if Tom acted on the same impulses.
He also planned to interview Mrs Crawley, she was bound to know about poisons and such like. He wanted to speak to the Dowager Countess too, she probably knew enough skeletons to fill a graveyard.
He looked over at Mary, eyes brimming with excitement, anticipation, and love. Mary easily returned the look in equal measure. Tom took Mary's gloved hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You really think I won't be in the way if I set up my typewriter in one of the downstairs rooms?" Tom asked nervously.
Mary could tell her husband was anxious by the way he was rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb and by the way his left knee was bobbing up and down at such a rapid pace.
"It will be fine," Mary gave her husband a loving look. "Lavinia, Mama, Granny and Edith is on our side," Mary scooted even closer to her husband in the motor, so their whole sides were touching. She pulled Tom's hand in her lap and gave it an extra squeeze.
"Besides, if it gets too much we can go to York, Ripon and Manchester and visit those book sellers Button, told us about," Mary said with a comforting smile. She understood, this would be the first time that Tom was in the house proper. As her husband, a respected author.
Mary knew the gulf between their social status was wide. How could she not. She had seen Mrs Branson's tiny little house. And when they went to Bray, Tom had shown Mary the cottage he had been born in. At the time she had been shocked at the poverty he had been born into. So far from the luxury she had experienced all her life.
That chasm that Tom had crossed to reach her, just made her admire her husband all the more. Being married to Tom had opened her eyes to the wider world. She loved her family and her position in society. The sense of history that came with being the ninth generation, who could trace her lineage back hundreds of years.
But now she understood that people not from her same social circle could also feel a sense of pride in the families, even if they were from humbler origins.
"Mary, look!" Tom softly whispered.
A large smile broke out on Mary's face. Downton had appeared from out of the winter's gloom. The magnificent house loomed over the country side, marking it as the most prominent feature for miles around.
Mary turned an excited grin towards Tom. "We're home," she said before Mary turned her attention back to Downton.
Tom looked out the Motor's window. He had noticed Mary's unconscious inclusion in the 'our' home. He looked at the intimidating facade of the house. 'Would it ever truly be our home,' Tom thought as he prepared to meet his past face on.
The motor drifts to a stop outside the imposing front entrance, the front doors are open, ready to welcome the returning travellers.
Mr Kent gets out of the driver's seat and walks around the motor to open the door for them.
Mary steps elegantly out of the motor, she pulls her new winter coat tighter around her, to protect her from the winters chill. Mary had agonised over the choice of the coat, careful in the selection of the trim and decorative embellishments. It was the first piece of clothing she had ever bought, using money she had worked to earn. She felt reluctance handing over her hard earned money.
It has given Mary a closer understanding of her husband and why he insists on second hand clothes. She appreciates her pin money all the more now.
"Oh! Mary, Darling," Cora practically flies down the stone steps to embrace her daughter. "You look wonderful," Cora says holding her daughter at arm's length to get a good look at her. Mary is as beautiful as she ever was, her looks enhanced by the icy chill in the air, bringing a flush of pink to her cheeks.
Cora notices Tom awkwardly standing by the motor, shifting his weight slightly on his feet, as if he is not sure what to do.
"Tom, welcome back to Downton," Cora says brightly, holding her hand out to shake.
Tom takes the offered and gives it a firm shake, "It's a pleasure Lady Grantham, Mary has been planning it for months, it seems," Tom politely replies. Before he can move, his mother-in-law loops her arm through his and repeating the motion with her daughter, draws them in to the house.
Mr Carson stiffly stands at the door, Thomas and Albert close by to handle their abundant luggage.
"Carson, it's so wonderful to see a friendly face welcoming us home," Mary said effusively. She just nods at the footmen.
"It is a pleasure to have you home my lady," Carson in tones.
Tom suppresses a sigh, he caught the glare from his former colleagues.
Moving from the entry way in to the great hall, Tom spots the rest of the immediate Crawley family, as he removes his hat. Making sure to have a polite expression on his face he moves to greet his new family.
Tom spots Edith and gives her a relieved smile, happy to have a friendly face to meet him.
"Mary, you're a married woman, so I moved you to the Chinese room now, so you can have a private bathroom and of course Tom can have a dressing room," Cora told Mary with a little head nod towards Tom
"Ah, thank you Lady Grantham," Tom said with a shuffle of his feet and a dip of the head. As he warmly watched Mary greet her family. Lord Grantham kissed his daughter on the cheek but managed to frown at Tom. Edith and Mary cautiously greet each other. They had been writing for months now. But Mary had told him she was nervous seeing her in person.
Of course, Sibyl was there too. She was as beautiful as ever, she looked a little tense. He took a breath. It was probably best to get this over with. "Hello Sibyl, you look well," Tom said tentatively. "How has college suited you?" he asked.
"Good," Sybil said while looking at Mary being welcomed back in to the family. Mary looked happy at least. Swallowing, "Congratulations on your baby," Sybil gave Tom a piercing look.
Tom ran a hand at the back of his neck, a little flush to his cheeks. "I always wanted children and so did Mary," Tom admitted. He couldn't help but feel guilty telling Sybil this. Mary was his wife, he was allowed to have children with her. But still, he did feel that uncomfortable twisty feeling in his stomach.
"Tom," Mary called his attention back to her. Smiling Tom, walked towards his wife. Mary took his arm. "Mama has arranged for Albert to assist you with dressing," Mary told him. He couldn't help grimacing. Mary saw the look and gave him a warning glare.
"That was very kind of you Lady Grantham," Tom said to his Mother-in-Law, smiling a bit stiffly. He was under strict orders from Mary about the way she expected her husband to behave in front of her family.
This was a very important visit for Mary. She really wanted her family to accept him. He knew now that Mary loved and respected him. And he loved Mary and was willing to go along with Mary's requests, they will only be here for a month.
At last, they were walking up the main stairs case, Tom had an excellent memory, so he thinks he remembers his way from the tour Mary gave him when he married. Tom was looking forward to having a moment of privacy with Mary.
The group seemed to stop at the room that was going to be theirs. Lady Grantham turned the handle and pushed the door open. Mary and her mother entered the room before Tom. Tom's heart sinks as he sees Anna standing in the room.
Mary hurries into the room a happy smile for Anna. "Anna, I have missed you," Mary said enthusiastically, taking Anna's hands in her own. "Thank you, my lady," Anna said. Now that she is in her room, Mary reaches up and unpins her hat, ready to pass to the maid.
Tom slowly took in the room, it was a much finer one to the room he stayed in back in February. His stomach twisted at the sight of the roaring fire knowing one the scullery maids had lit it for him. Watching Anna helping Mary off with her coat, knowing former friends would be waiting on him, made him uncomfortable.
Looking at Mary who looked so happy and relaxed as Anna helped her. Here at Downton already felt a world away from there more normal flat in Dublin.
Once Mary's coat was removed Cora gasped, bringing her hand to cover mouth as she stared at Mary's burgeoning stomach. "Oh Mary," she sighed coming closer to her daughter.
Mary glanced down at her obvious pregnancy bump, noticing Anna and her mother's surprised looked, blushed lightly. "It just popped out over the last week," Mark said bringing her hand to gently stroke her belly.
Tom begun to remove is outer coat and wondered where he should put it when Anna came up to him.
"I can take it sir," Anna said politely, smiling at Tom.
Tom could feel his face burn as he handed his coat to his friend.
"How do you feel darling," Cora gushed. "Can I touch?"
"I feel a bit tired, but overall, I feel good," Mary replied. "You can touch,"
Cora reverently touched her daughter's baby bump. "Have you felt them moving yet?" Cora quietly said.
"Not yet," Mary wistfully said, gaze soft.
"Mrs Murphy, said it will be another few weeks yet," Tom said coming up to his wife and resting his warm hand next to Cora's on Mary stomach. Tom couldn't help himself and kissed Mary's cheek.
Dropping her hand away, Cora took a step back. "Mrs Murphy the housekeeper, not your doctor?" Cora questioned.
Mary turned her head away and walked over to the chair in front of her vanity. She hated talking about her doctor.
Scowling Tom turns to his mother-in-law seeing an opportunity to persuade Lady Grantham to his side of the argument. "Mary's doctor is terrible, I think she should change doctors or have a midwife," Tom said firmly.
Cora frowned slightly and looked at her daughter in concern. "Is this true Mary?" Cora went to stand beside her daughter and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"He's fine Mama," Mary turned her head away. She hated thinking of the man and how he made her feel. He made her feel vulnerable in a way that
Doctor Clarkson never did.
"He made her cry," Tom said, outrage obvious in his voice. Tom personally would be happy to go down to his office and punch him in the nose. He didn't think it was right. Tom didn't have much experience with doctors, but he was sure they weren't meant to make their patients cry, especially when they were paying for his services.
"Mary darling, that isn't right at all!" Cora said, worry etched in her features.
To everyone's surprise Mary burst into tears, alarming everyone present.
Cora pulled Mary to her and stroked her dark hair.
Tom hated it when Mary cried, he scowled darkly. Nearly all of Mary's tears recently were due to her damn doctor. He fidgeted, not sure what he should do. If they were alone, he would comfort his wife.
Anna stood shocked looking at the scene unfolding before her, catching Lady Grantham's eye, she nodded towards Tom's dressing room.
"This way sir, I'll show you the dressing room," Anna said indicating a door across the room from them.
Tom looked torn for a moment and then decided to follow Anna through the door. Maybe Lady Grantham would be a more suitable person to talk to Mary, she was a mother after all, presumably she knew more about childbirth than Tom did.
Tom walked through the first door, pulling it closed behind him to give Mary and her mother some privacy. On passing through the second door in he came into another well-appointed room, with rich wall hangings, in an oriental style, with painted screens of exotic scenes and birds.
There was a single bed in the room, for him, he supposed. A rich golden brocade cover covered the bed. Dressers and wardrobes in rich cherry wood.
The most noticeable feature of the room was the extremely tall footman present, with sandy red hair, who had his trunk open and was in the process arranging his clothes in the room.
"Albert, this is Mr Branson," Anna introduced.
"Hello Albert," Tom said holding out his hand to shake with the tall footman.
"Hello sir," Albert said awkwardly, tentatively shaking Tom's hand. He didn't know what to think. The servant's hall had been awash with gossip, and he had heard all about the scandal from the hall boys and Thomas.
Mr Bates had taken him aside and told him firmly that he should only treat Tom as Mr Branson and Lady Mary's husband as he didn't want to get on the bad side of the family.
Having a valet, no matter for how short a period made Tom nervous. He knew Mary expected it of her husband. She had compromised on no lady's maid in Dublin, and this was his compromise in Downton.
"One of the trunks has the family Christmas presents in them," Tom informed him, he stuck his hands in his pocket as he didn't know what to do with them. "It is probably best to bring it up here for now."
"Yes sir," Albert said and continued to unpack. He certainly seemed to have all the clothes was expected to have, including riding clothes, white tie, walking outfits and various suits, with the matching shoes and accessories.
"Erm, I won't need you in the mornings," Tom said a bit awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe lay out the clothes for the morning the night before," Tom instructed.
"Yes sir," Albert said as he inspected Tom's shoes and setting any that he thought might need polishing aside.
Anna no longer bearing the awkwardness of the conversation decided to break in. "Here you go Albert, Mr Branson's coat," she said handing over the brown coat to the temporary valet.
Albert took the warm looking coat and hung it on the stand in the room, ready for a brush before he hung it in the wardrobe.
All three people in room found themselves in an awkward position, not quite know their relative positions to each other.
Anna looked at Tom thoughtfully, he looked much better dressed now and somehow more handsome too. She had no idea he was a writer when he worked at Downton.
"How did Lady Mary look in her dress for the book launch?" Anna asked thinking this was a safe conversation for the time it took Lady Grantham and Lady Mary to talk.
Tom looked wistful as he said, "beautiful," breathlessly.
Anna grinned.
"I've never met an author before," Albert shyly said, the red blush easy to see on his fair complexion. "How do you think what to write?" he asked. Albert had left school at 12 to start work. He had liked school well enough but couldn't imagine writing a whole book.
Tom felt relieved to be given a topic he could easily talk about for hours. "Well, I like to think off the things that I might like to write about in my notebooks," Tom explained in a friendly manner, on firmer ground. "Then when I have an idea for the plot, I have to do research," Tom said smiling at Albert.
"Research, what's that?" Anna asked curiously. She had never met a writer either.
"I don't know what type of books you like," Tom started. He couldn't help grin at Albert's puckered mouth and crease in his forehead, a sure indicator that Albert wasn't a great reader. Anna looked interested though.
"But I am writing mysteries at the moment," Tom said.
The weak light from the winters sun filtered entered the window of the room, the cool light negated by warm yellow fire. Crackling in the hearth. Making the little group cosy in its warmth.
"So, if I write about a robbery of a painting, as an example, I need to know how the police, or a detective go about finding it. So, it seems realistic to my readers," Tom looked at their faces, trying to see if they understood or not.
Anna looked thoughtful, standing in front of the window.
Albert looked doubtful.
"Right, let's say I wrote a scene set in a grand house, at dinner, and I wrote that maids were serving dinner while the footmen were below stairs," Tom said looking carefully at Albert. "What would you think if you read that in a book?" Tom looked at Albert expectantly.
Albert scoffed. "I'd think they didn't know what they were about," Albert said.
"Exactly. As a reader, you would be brought out of the story. You might even lose interest in the book, as it no longer feels real to you," Tom said with a broad grin. "That's what research is for. To try and make the story seem real."
Anna simply nodded her understanding, while Albert was still thinking about Tom's words.
Just a faint "Anna," was heard from the next room.
Anna excused herself and quickly went through the doors to the main bedroom.
Tom just smiled at Albert. "You best show me where everything is, in case I need something."
"Mary, darling why don't you tell me what's wrong,"
Cora was still gently stroking Mary's hair as she sat in front of the vanity, their expressions a mixture of concern and frustration. Mary recounted the dismissive attitude of her doctor, describing how he belittled her concerns and made disparaging remarks about her age of 29 to be having her first baby. Cora's brow furrowed in disapproval as she listened, her maternal instincts kicking in.
"That's not right at all, Mary," Cora asserted firmly, her tone resolute. "No woman should be made to feel that way, especially not by her doctor."
Mary nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting the hurt caused by her doctor's callous comments. "But he's the expert, Mama. He came recommended to me. I asked if Tom could come to the appointments and he laughed and said, 'why would Mr Branson want to do that?' It's been quite distressing," she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration.
Cora's gaze softened with empathy as she reached out to gently squeeze Mary's hand. "You shouldn't have to tolerate such treatment, my darling," she said sympathetically, taking Mary's chin in her hand so she could look in her daughter's eyes. "Perhaps it's time you sought a second opinion."
Mary's eyes widened slightly at her mother's suggestion, considering the possibility. "You mean see Doctor Clarkson while I'm here at Downton?" she asked, her tone hopeful.
Cora nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yes, exactly," she confirmed. "He's our family doctor and has known you since you were a little girl, and I'm sure he'll treat you with the respect and care you deserve."
Mary's expression brightened at the prospect of consulting Doctor Clarkson, a sense of relief washing over her. "That sounds like a good idea, Mama," she agreed, her voice tinged with gratitude.
Cora's smile widened, her heart swelling with satisfaction. "I'm glad you think so, Mary," she said warmly, her eyes shining with maternal pride. "It's important to prioritise your health and well-being, especially during this time."
Mary nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of reassurance knowing her mother was on her side. As they shared a brief moment of understanding, Cora couldn't help but feel one step closer to persuading Mary to move back to Downton, where she belonged.
The Bed
Mary lay nestled in their sumptuously adorned bed in the opulent bedroom of Downton Abbey. Earlier, she and Tom had engaged in lively discussions about potential plot twists for his upcoming novel, both eager to embark on new adventures together within the grand estate.
The tension of their first family dinner had finally dissipated, leaving behind a sense of relief. Surprisingly, the evening had unfolded relatively smoothly, thanks in part to the unwavering support of Cora, Lady Violet, and Edith. Despite Sybil's subdued demeanour and Lord Grantham's reserved politeness, the atmosphere had remained cordial, allowing Mary and Tom to breathe a collective sigh of relief.
Edith and Mary tentatively engaged in conversation, a departure from their usual contentious exchanges. The absence of their former rivalry seemed palpable, perhaps due to Mary's marriage and departure from Downton. With distance between them, the competitive edge of their relationship had softened.
Over the past months, their correspondence had fostered a newfound camaraderie, bridging the divide that once defined their relationship. Freed from the constraints of Downton's rigid social hierarchy, they discovered common ground that had eluded them before.
Mary was hopeful that they could develop a sisterlier relationship now.
Tom was sitting by the dwindling fire, scribbling in his note book, muttering to himself now and then as he talked through possible plot variations.
"Tom come to bed, I'm tired and want to go to sleep," Mary said, arm out reached, entreating Tom to come to bed.
Tom looked up and saw that it was passed midnight. He looked a little shamed face at Mary. "Sorry, my love." If Tom had been at home, he would be in his office banging about right about now, but at least not disturbing Mary.
Tom walked over to the bed and took Mary's hand and kissed it, before tucking it back in beneath the quilt.
"Mmm, just turn off the lights and come to bed," She sleepily commanded, not even opening her eyes. "I will talk to Papa tomorrow about finding somewhere for you to work, okay," Mary mumbled. She was exhausted and she just wanted a peaceful nights rest.
"I need a murder, for the book," Tom told her as he went back to the fire to put up the guard and turned off the lamp he had been using.
"Mmm hmm," Mary acknowledged, turning into her pillows. She knew her husband well and he was keyed up with a mixture of anxiety about being in her parents' home and excitement about his next book.
Tom looked at the solidly built four poster bed. The woodwork looked sturdy. "Do you think the bed would be strong enough to hang a man?" Tom wondered aloud. He put his hand around the post, his fingers didn't quite meet.
"We can talk about it in the morning," Mary pleaded. She heard the rustle of paper and the scratch of Tom's pencil as he wrote his thoughts down. She would beg her father for a space for Tom if need be. Her husband was not a restful soul.
She heard Tom put his notepad and pencil down and a rush of relief went through Mary, at last. She pulled the quilt up to her ears. She felt the bed dip. But he did not join her under the covers. Instead, she heard Tom clambering around on the bed.
"I wonder if this cross post could take the weight of a grown man," Tom said out loud.
Mary's eye's shot open in alarm. Tom was standing on the foot board, arms up stretched to grab the wooden cross post. "Tom, don't you dare," Mary warned in alarm. "This bed is over hundred years old."
It was too late, Tom lifted his feet from the foot board and suspended his full weight from the cross post. "See, nothing to worry about," Tom said with a pleased grin. It was then that an ominous cracking sound filled the air. And the tell, tell sound of wood splintering could be loudly heard.
Tom looked at Mary in alarm, sitting in the bed, rumpled. The bed moved and Tom dove for Mary and covered her with his body, when with an almighty crash the bed collapsed.
They thudded in the bed as another cross post fell to the ground with a clatter.
Tom and Mary stayed still in the wreckage breathing heavily, not daring to move.
Mary was fully awake now, heart pounding and she was angry.
"Oh my god, what have you done?" She said in horror looking about her. The cross post was broken in two, one of the vertical posts had split and the frame must have come apart from the strain.
Tom was white from shock. He tentatively stood from the bed, making sure the path was clear before helping Mary to stand.
There was a tentative knock at the door. "Are you all right my lady?" came a young nervous voice. "It's Billy the hall boy," Billy added.
Looking at Tom, shooting daggers Mary said, "Everything is fine Billy. Mr Branson knocked over a table." Mary glared at Tom.
"Erm, okay my lady, I am on duty tonight if you need anything," Billy said through the door.
"Thank you, Billy," Called out Mary.
"What are we going to do?" Tom said, colour returning to his face,
"We, we! There is no we in this situation, only you," Mary spat out. She can't believe Tom would do this to her on their first night home. Her father already disliked Tom.
"You do realise everyone will think we broke the bed because of..." Mary could barely say the word. "Sex!"
Tom looked about the room with dawning horror, his face flushed red.
Mary had her hands covering her face, upset.
"I'm sorry Mary, I will talk to Mrs Hughes in the morning," Tom promised. "I am sure she will be discreet," Tom said.
Mary could cry she was so tired and now this. "Discreet, Tom the estate carpenter will need to fix the bed, which will need to be authorised by Papa or at least Mama!" Mary whisper shouted, her own face flushed as angry tears leaked from her eyes.
Tom hated seeing Mary crying. "Well, we can't do anything now," Tom said in a calm tone, drawing Mary to his dressing room. There was a bed in the room, Mary could at least sleep in that bed for tonight before the bed was repaired.
Mary allowed her husband to lead her to his dressing room, she didn't protest as he put her to bed.
"Don't even think you are getting in this bed with me," Mary furiously said.
"Yes, Mary," Tom said with a hang dog expression.
Well Mary wasn't going to forgive Tom that easily.
Tom stroked Mary's hair as she got comfortable in the smaller bed. He was relieved she hadn't pushed him away. He bent down and kissed Mary's forehead. "Goodnight Mary!" He said softly.
He turned to leave the room.
"Goodnight Tom," was Mary's muffled replied.
Tom breathed a sigh of relief before turning off the light and closed the door behind him.
Going in to the main room he looked at the wreckage of their bed. "Fuck!" Tom hissed to himself.
He could feel his cheeks burn at the anticipation of having to explain this to everyone. Mary was correct, everyone was going to think him some sort of deviant who was doing unspeakable things to his pregnant wife to make the bed collapse.
'Damn it!' he thought, he wanted to prove to everyone that he was a good husband to Mary. He was such an idiot.
Suddenly overcome with tiredness, he dragged the bedding from the bed to in front of the dying fire to try and get some sleep. He turned off the lights before trying to settle down to get some sleep, not looking forward to the morning.
Tom woke the next morning when the bedroom door opened, and a scullery maid crept into the room to restart the morning fire in the now cold room.
Tom sat up in his nest of pillows, blanket and quilt.
The maid let out a startled gasp when she saw the state of the bed and Tom sitting in front of the extinguished fire.
"Erm, there was an accident," Tom said as he sprung to his feet. "Is Mrs Hughes up?" Tom enquired.
"Er, she will be downstairs in the next half hour," she informed Tom with big round eyes as she took in the state of the room.
"The bed collapsed without warning last night," Tom stuttered an explanation, face burning. "Lady Mary is sleeping in the Dressing room. We thought it best not to disturb the whole house due to the accident," Tom said finding himself on firmer ground.
"Yes sir," the maid said in a noncommitment tone. Frowning she looked at Tom. "Should I make up the fire sir?" she asked.
"Right, yes, do that," Tom said shuffling about. "I am going to get dressed so I can go speak to Mrs Hughes," Tom said. "Don't wake Lady Mary, she was very tired yesterday. I am sure she will ring for Anna when she is ready." Tom looked at the clock on the mantle and realised that it wasn't 7am yet.
He had removed this morning's clothes and hung them in the bathroom ready for the morning as he was getting dressed for bed yesterday. So, he didn't need to disturb Mary further that morning.
Tom quickly washed and shaved himself before getting dressed for the morning. Once he exited their private bathroom, he saw that the fire was lit, and the maid had disappeared. He realised he needed to get down to Mrs Hughes so he could inform her of the accident and to try to control the gossip in the servants hall.
Pulling on his jacket he headed down the stairs, ready to face the music.
Mrs Hughes strode through the servant's hall, clip-board in hand. The house maids were already scattered around the lower floors cleaning the rooms ready for the day. Now that Lady Mary was home, Lady Grantham had given the go ahead to start the Christmas Decorations.
The garden staff were making garlands for the various rooms and the 20 foot tree chosen for the great hall. The hall boys particularly enjoyed the Christmas Tree going up as they got excused from their normal duties to scramble up and down ladders putting up the higher decorations and helping the Estate workers string the new electric lights on the tree.
The footmen were in the dining room, setting the table for breakfast, what with Lady Edith, Lady Sybil, and now Mr Branson, would all eat with Lord Grantham. She frowned in sympathy thinking of Mr Branson having to face his father-in-law over the breakfast table. It couldn't be too comfortable for the man.
As if thinking of the man, summoned him Tom Branson appeared in her domain. Dressed smartly in a suitable for the morning. He looked nervous to her eyes.
"Mr Branson, how can I help you?" Mrs Hughes said getting to the heart of the matter.
To her astonishment, Tom shifted from foot to foot and his face flamed bright red.
"Morning Mrs Hughes," Tom started, he could feel his face burning. This was a lot more embarrassing than he thought last night. "Well, erm, last night, yeah," Tom stuttered, trying to choose the right words. He couldn't help shuffling feet like a school boy in front of his master.
Mrs Hughes just frowned in bewilderment at this strange behaviour. "Is everything all right with Lady Mary?" She prompted.
"Oh, Mary's fine, mostly," Tom said staring at the older woman, eye's wide.
"What!" Mrs Hughes said alarmed.
"No, Mary is fine. There was an accident with the bed last night and it might need to be repaired," Tom finally got out, cheeks even redder.
"Oh, and you need a maid to make the bed?" Mrs Hughes tentatively said not sure what was causing Mr Branson's discomfort. Unless Lady Mary had an accident, it wasn't unheard of for pregnant women, she thought.
"Oh, erm, not a maid, maybe a handyman. The bed has a bit of damage. Aah, cracking," Tom said, rubbing the back of his neck, looking at the floor, too embarrassed to look at Mrs Hughes.
"I am very busy Mr Branson, as I am sure you remember. Does this need my immediate attention?" Mrs Hughes looked down at her clip-board and added a note to call the Estate's 'Jack-of-all-trades', to see if this cracking was serious, before disturbing the carpenters essential work.
Tom was momentarily tempted to put off anyone looking at the bed. He knew it would take a carpenter to repair the mess he made of the bed. He then thought of Mary and how cross she would be if he didn't get it fixed.
Tom sighed.
"I think it probably needs you to look at it now," Tom confessed. "I put Lady Mary in the bed in the Dressing Room," Tom explained to highlight it was quite serious.
"Right, we will go and inspect the bed now," Mrs Hughes said. She was puzzled about what could be wrong with the bed. It was after all over one hundred years old. She all ways thought of the bed being sturdy piece of furniture.
The two of them made their way up to the first floor, where the family rooms and their VIP guests where housed. Tom chatted nervously along the way, telling Mrs Hughes his process of how he researched his novels.
She smiled at the maids and waved them away as she passed, confused as to why Tom was telling her about his novel. He was always a friendly young man and he had told her of some of the Irish Legends he was writing about, in the past. His behaviour was strange, surely, he wasn't that nervous to be here at Downton.
Finally, they reached the 'Chinese Room'. Tom paused for a moment before opening the door and showing her into the room.
Mrs Hughes stepped in to the room and faced the bed, well what left of the bed.
One of the cross posts was broken in two, while another had fallen to the ground, probably because the upright post had been badly splintered. Two legs at the end of the bed had collapsed so that the bottom of the bed frame was resting on the floor.
She noticed that the bed clothes were missing from the bed, she glanced around the room and noticed a pile of pillows, blankets, and quilt on the floor in front of the fire. Lady Mary seems to have made her displeasure known.
Mr Branson hurried over and started to pick-up the scattered bed clothes, until his arms were full.
Mrs Hughes looked on in dismay. Surely to get the bed fixed it might take all day, maybe tomorrow as well.
"You said you heard cracking?" Mrs Hughes asked weakly.
Flushing red. "Yes, you see I was assessing the strength of my bed, for plot of my next novel," Tom said, his head barely visible over the pile of bed clothes in his arms.
"Really Mr Branson," Mrs Hughes said with more exasperation than she would use on any normal guest of the family. "Leave the bedding on the floor. I'll have a maid collect it," she instructed her Scottish accent clear.
"Yes Mrs Hughes," Tom said meekly, at once transported back to the time where he worked for the family and Mrs Hughes an authority.
Mrs Hughes rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache come on at the thought of having to rearrange her list of tasks for the day.
Sighing, Mrs Hughes looks at Tom and shakes her head. "I'll get this repaired," Taking pity on the man. "Why don't you go down to the dining room for breakfast," Mrs Hughes suggested.
Tom sags in relief, "You'll keep me informed?" he said.
"I'll let you know before lunch," Mrs Hughes said.
"Thank you, Mrs Hughes," Tom said gratefully, before darting out of the room like a coward.
Mrs Hughes just looked at the wreckage of the bed in dismay and shook her head. Before turning and leaving room. She didn't know what she was going to say to her ladyship about this.
Afternoon Tea
The drawing room at Downton Abbey was a picture of warmth and elegance on that December afternoon. A roaring fire crackled in the grand fireplace, casting a soft, flickering glow across the richly upholstered furniture and the ornate decorations that adorned the room. Mary, Edith, Sybil, and Lavinia sat comfortably around a low table set with fine china and an array of delicious pastries and sandwiches.
The scent of the Christmas garlands, pine, orange oil and cloves, permeated the room.
Lavinia's eyes sparkled with joy as she leaned forward to speak with Mary. "Can you believe our babies will only be three months apart?" she exclaimed, a hand resting lightly on her own growing belly. "It's wonderful to think they'll grow up together."
Mary smiled warmly, her hand mirroring Lavinia's. "I know! It's such a delight to think of them as close friends, just like us. Tom is over the moon, of course." Her smile dimmed slightly when she noticed the tenseness about Lavinia's mouth when she referenced Tom's happiness at impending fatherhood.
She made a note to herself not to mention Tom's joy too often in front of her friend. She was disappointed in Matthew. From Lavinia's letters, he didn't seem to be living up to her expectations of a good husband.
She reached over and gave Lavinia's hand a squeeze in comradery. This visit was turning into a more awkward situation than she expected. She had realised she would have to be careful of Sybils feelings, she didn't realise she would have to temper feelings in front of her friend too.
Sybil, sitting slightly apart from the other two, sipped her tea and tried to join in their happiness. She couldn't help but feel a pang of discomfort. Memories of her past plans with Tom, now married to her sister, resurfaced unbidden. Although she was genuinely happy for Mary, there was a sting in seeing how perfectly happy Tom and Mary appeared to be.
Edith, sensing Sybil's discomfort, gently shifted the conversation. "It's so lovely to be home for the holidays, isn't it? I do hope it snows this year. The estate looks absolutely magical under a blanket of snow."
Edith peers out of the window, the sky was dull, but didn't have the heaviness that often-indicated snow fall, she sighed and turned back to the little group. Thankful of the warmth from the fire in the large hearth.
"Indeed," Mary agreed, her eyes also drifting towards the window as if she could already see the snowflakes falling. "I can't wait to see Downton in all its winter glory." Mary took a sip of her tea, remembering how different it tasted compared to Barry's Gold Blend from Cork, she now preferred at home, in Dublin. This small change highlighted how much her tastes had evolved since her marriage. Strangely, this one small change to her daily life highlighted to her how much her taste and opinions had changed since her marriage.
Mary swallowed her tea, it was still pleasant, just not what she preferred now. She idly wondered if she could write to her sister-in-law and get her to send a packet of Barry's tea to her.
Lavinia nodded. "I remember last Christmas; it was just breathtaking. It would be charming to walk through a snow-covered village. Who would have thought we would be walking with our husbands this Christmas." Some of the festive spirit had returned to Lavinia, she did so love Christmas.
Last year she had been nervous over Matthew and Mary's relationship. She wasn't unobservant, she had seen their glances. She supressed a sigh as she looked at Mary who was gaily laughing at something Edith had said. Ensuring her own smile didn't fall from her face, a part of her wished that she had paid more attention to her instincts.
She had been sure, that once Mary was married, Matthew would be happier in his own marriage with her. But there was something lacking between them. Since it had been known that she was with child, he hadn't even laid with her. As if his duty to father an heir had been accomplished so he didn't need to bother himself further in that regard.
Edith was in shock; she couldn't remember Mary being this carefree and happy, not since they were still in the school room. The change over her sister was astounding, she idly wondered what exactly the handsome former chauffeur was doing to her uptight sister.
She smiled slyly at her sister as she remembered one of the maids giggling, telling her that the estate carpenter had to be called in to repair Tom and Mary's bed.
Mary suddenly burst into laughter. "Oh, speaking of Tom," she began, leaning closer to the other women, and dropping her voice slightly. "You won't believe what happened last night," she covered her face for a moment with her hands before continuing with her risqué story.
"Tom decided that last night was the perfect time to evaluate a theory for his next novel and managed to collapse our bed with me still in it!"
A slight blush could be seen on Mary's cheeks.
Edith gasped, then chuckled. "What on earth was he doing?"
"Tom is always so energetic and restless," Mary explained, shaking her head fondly. "He has to be doing something all the time. He gets these bursts of inspiration and can't sit still. Last night He was trying to see if the four-poster bed was sturdy enough to hang from. Apparently, it wasn't!"
Lavinia giggled, and even Sybil managed a smile, though her heart ached a little. Mary continued, "I had to beg Papa this morning to let Tom set up in one of the offices downstairs. He needs a place to go when he gets these ideas, otherwise, I fear for the safety of our furniture!"
"Did you tell Papa about the bed?" Edith couldn't imagine Papa would take it well, seeing how he disliked Tom.
"I did not," Mary said firmly. "I made Tom go confess to Mrs Hughes this morning who thankfully arranged everything with Mama out of earshot of father," Mary breathless from her laughter explained.
"Mama gave Tom a lecture about the delicate state of pregnant women and how they should be treated," Mary told the gathered women. "Sometimes I can really appreciate Mama's American frankness." Mary grinned.
"I could have toasted bread off of his face, with how hot his face was burning after his talk."
Sybil listened to her sister's gay story, her smile fading as she reflected on how well Mary understood Tom now. It was a reminder of what could have been, a life she had once imagined for herself. She felt a pang of melancholy and a touch of envy, though she kept these feelings to herself.
Sybil reminded herself how much she was enjoying college; Aunt Rosamund wasn't nearly as strict as she had feared when she had gone to live with her. Sybil had been able to go dancing with her friends, she even had gone dancing with some of the male students from London University.
Sybil was ashamed to admit it, but she would have been happier, if her sister wasn't quite as happy with Tom as she appeared to be. She thought she was so radical and different from her sisters. Yet both Mary and Edith were actual working women now and she was living on an allowance from her father.
She thought she would be the one to blaze a trail for her sisters to follow and it just seemed she was still running to catch up to her elder sisters. She dropped her hand to her side, out of sight of everyone in the room and gripped her hand tight, her short nails digging painfully into her palm. Distracting her so that she was able to smile with the other women in the room.
The conversation eventually turned to Christmas shopping, and Mary's excitement was contagious. "I can't wait to see everyone's faces when they open their presents," she said, practically glowing with anticipation. "Lavinia, as you know, Tom and I have made something special for your baby—a children's book. We hope you'll love it."
Lavinia's eyes filled with tears of gratitude. "Mary, I am sure I will. You have sent so many charming little pictures I am sure whatever you and Tom come up with will be wonderful. Thank you."
Edith turned to Mary. "You wrote a children's book?" she asked with interest.
"Well Tom wrote it, I drew the illustrations," she shyly explained, suddenly feeling a bit nervous about her gifts. She had practically brought everyone books that she had illustrated. Was she displaying too much hubris. Tom had assured her that her friends and family were sure to love them.
As the afternoon sun began to set, casting long shadows across the room, the four women continued their conversation, their laughter mingling with the crackling of the fire. Despite the undercurrents of unspoken feelings, there was a warmth and camaraderie among them, a sense of shared history and future joys. The drawing room, with its festive decorations and the promise of the holiday season, was a haven of comfort and connection.
Bedtime Chats
The lonely hooting of an owl echoed through the dark bedchamber, the only noise to disturb the night.
This was an entirely new experience for Edith and Mary, for the first time in their lives they were sharing a bed.
The bed in Mary's and Tom's room was still being repaired. Tom had been told firmly that he was to sleep in his dressing room 'ALONE', while Mary would share with Edith. In the past, she would have shared a room with dear Sybil, but with the strain between them due to her marriage to Tom, she thought it best to share with her second sister.
Truly the house was big enough that another room could have been made available to them. But since she had been married, her eyes had been opened to her privilege and the lives of working class people. She didn't want to make more work for Mrs Hughes and the maids during this busy season.
So here she was in bed with Edith, her sister's hot sweaty feet touching her legs. Mary kept moving her feet further away from Edith, but they inevitable would creep closer again. She was starting to realise how considerate Tom was as a bed partner, she almost regrets not succumbing his hang dog expression. But really, he broke their bed in her parent's home, she could barely look at Papa during dinner.
So here she was in Edith's room. She had never been in here this long before. Yet she could see the touches of her sister all about, in the floral decorations, and the little white and blue porcelain figurines she seemed to favour.
The room wasn't as hideous as she remembered, maybe she had decorated since Mary's marriage in the spring.
Mary could feel Edith laying unnaturally still beside her, sighing she realised neither of them would get any sleep unless she broke the awkward silence.
Mary rolled over to face her sister, tucking one had beneath the pillow, she could see in the shadows that Edith's eyes were still open.
"What is your interest in Sir Anthony?" Mary asked in a hushed voice, the stillness of the night encouraging secret exchanges.
"Whatever do you mean?" Edith replied, a hint of defensiveness in her voice.
Mary could feel the tension rolling off her sister in waves.
"I just found it unexpected that you were encouraging Mama to invite Sir Anthony to the house over Christmas," Mary said, she quietly watched her sister in the gloom of the room.
"I just thought he would be lonely over Christmas in that big house of his and well no one has seen much of him since the war," Edith said a bit bristly.
Mary repressed her sigh. She could hardly expect Edith to open up to her straightaway after their acrimonious relationship.
Mary wetted her lips, trying to think of the words that wouldn't cause a fight between them.
"It's just from your letters," Mary started cautiously. "It sounded to me, that you might be sweet on that Editor of yours," Mary tentatively said.
Edith just breathed beside her sister in the dark.
"Tom had said he seemed like a nice intelligent man when they met in London," Mary prompted. She then firmly kept her mouth shut and let the silence do the rest of the work.
Edith remained still; her breaths barely audible in the still room.
At last Edith rolled towards Mary so she too was on her side facing Mary.
Mary held her breath.
"He's married," Edith whispered.
"Married!"
"We had gone on several working lunches," Edith explained before turning her face into her pillow for a moment, before turning back towards Mary. "He asked me to dinner one evening, I was terribly excited, as Michael is such a handsome and kind man," Edith paused here, a quiver in voice noticeable to Mary.
"During dinner he explained that he was married, but his wife had gone insane before the war and was currently living permanently in a hospital in the country," Edith said.
"Oh Edith," Mary said with feeling, "is it true do you think?" Mary asked.
"I think so, Miss Harrington, has worked at the magazine for fifteen years, she is terribly indiscrete. I asked her about Mrs Gregson," Edith explained. "She told me all about it, how she had been a lovely wife, but she suffered a still birth and went strange after that," Edith swallowed. "How that she had tried to drown herself in Brighton, except some passersby saved her. That she has been living in a home for the insane ever since."
Mary could hear the wetness in Edith's voice, as if she was swallowing her own tears.
"Can't he divorce her?" Mary asked, not caring if this sounded a bit callous.
"That's the thing in England, a man can't divorce his wife if she is insane, as she is not considered to be competent," Edith hiccupped. "So, you see we can't possibly be together."
Here Edith did cry.
Mary, not the most experienced at giving comfort, nevertheless, gathered Edith in her arms and stroked her hair.
The two sisters laid in each other's embrace for several silent moments, with just Edith's ragged breaths the only sound in the room.
"You could still be lovers," Mary practically suggested.
"Mary!"
Edith pulled away from Mary so she could lean on her hands and look at Mary's face.
Even in the shadows of the room, she could see that she had truly shocked Edith.
"How could you suggest such a thing?" Edith whispered fiercely; eyes wide.
Mary gave Edith a grin. "Come on, you have been working in the publishing world as long as I have, you must know people who live together, as man and wife who are not married? I know I do," Mary said frankly to her sister.
Edith just goggled at her sister, barely believing what she was hearing.
"Well, yes," Edith admitted. "But I am a Lady, what would Mama and Papa say?" Edith said. "What would society say?"
Mary shrugged one shoulder. "Edith darling, I doubt there is anything you could do that would bring even a tenth of the scandal on to this family that I have."
Edith just blinked in surprise at her sister. What Mary said was true, with her hasty marriage earlier in the year and the vicious things printed about Mary in the paper's, well it would truly have to be calamitous to eclipse her eldest sister.
"But I couldn't," Edith said tremulously, "could I?"
"Well, it would probably be better than being married to that bore, Sir Anthony," Mary stated her opinion firmly.
"Just go to a doctor first, they can give you a preventative, to stop you having a baby," Mary advised.
"Mary!" Edith gasped before hiding her burning face in her cool pillows. Of all the conversations she thought she and Mary might have, this topic of conversation was nowhere on the list of possibilities.
"Even if your Mr Gregson is completely out of bounds, I promise you, you can do better than Sir Anthony Strallen," Mary said firmly, patting Edith's shoulder with one hand, while using the other to stifle a yawn.
Edith started to giggle uncontrollably from this strange conversation, she covered her mouth to ensure that she didn't disturb anyone in the house.
Mary couldn't help but find her sisters laughing infectious. She too was aware of how absurd their late night conversation was.
With a glint in her eye, Edith turned her attention back to her sister. "Tell me Mary, did Tom really break the bed while evaluating a theory for his novel?"
Mary just knew Edith was smirking at her in the dark. "Yes," Mary hissed. "Of course that was what it was, I don't know why everyone is suspicious," Mary grumbled.
Edith just giggled. She felt lighter than she had in weeks since finding out Michael was married. She might even be able to sleep now.
She rolled on to her back, her preferred sleeping pose. "Goodnight Mary," she whispered.
"Goodnight Edith,"
Mary rolled to her other side and drifted off to sleep.
A lonely hoot echoed across the Estate.
Mary groggily arose from her peaceful slumber, she started to feel the tell-tell pressure building up in her bladder again. But she was warm and comfortable in bed. Should she get up now and relieve herself or should she see if she could fall asleep?
Mary lay still, her eyes closed, trying not to think of her bladder, Edith lay quietly beside her, her sisters breathing causing the covers to shift slightly with every breath.
Now she had thought about going to the bathroom the thought became instant. The more she tried to not think about it the more uncomfortable she became.
Grumbling quietly to herself, she threw the bed clothes from her, before rolling out of bed. By feel she found her warm dressing gown, before making her way quietly to Edith's bedroom door.
She tugged her favourite blue dressing gown close about her, to stave off the chill of the winter's night.
Tomorrow, she had better be in her own room, where the bathroom was much closer, she thought as she swiftly walked down the corridor to the nearest bathroom.
She and Tom rarely slept apart, she didn't expect to miss him quite so much, even when he was in the same building as she.
Mary had enjoyed the unexpected of sharing of secrets with Edith, it is something the sisters had never done in the past. It was a strange experience, to be thirty years old and to be gossiping about beaux for the first time in their lives.
Mary passed one of the tired looking hall boys, who asked her if she needed help, she declined.
Once she had relieved herself and washed her hands, she peered at herself in the mirror. Other than her little baby bump she didn't look any different from the last time she was home.
She felt different though. Happier or maybe freer. The unexpected benefit of being married to Tom. She had never expected to be particularly happy in marriage, content was the most she could hope to expect, especially after she turned down Matthew.
But seeing the shadows in Lavinia's eyes maybe Matthew wouldn't have been a suitable match for her. Especially when she compared the dull life Lavinia was living with Matthew compared to her exciting life with Tom.
Mary smiled. Suddenly she was looking forward to traipsing all over the estate tomorrow with Tom, looking for suitable murder locations. She wanted to show him the abandoned watermill.
Mary, Sybil, Edith, and one of their more adventurous governesses had explored it when they were children. She remembered being quite scared, though at the time she was determined not to show it in front of her younger sisters.
Yes, in the morning she would dress when Edith rose and go down and have breakfast with Tom, so they could head out as soon as possible.
The chill of the house was forgotten as she hurried back to the bed she was sharing with Edith. Looking forward to the next morning.
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